Page 83 of Relationship Goals

“What?” I ask her. “What’s wrong?”

“Is it okay if we don’t eat out?” Her nose wrinkles. “I am not in the mood for peopling.”

“Do you want me to drop you off at your house?” Disappointment tightens my chest, and it’s absurd to think how much I’m already invested in her. I don’t want to leave her side. I want to know her, soak her up like sunshine.

“Oh—you don’t want to hang out?”

“You just said you were tired of peopling.”

“You’re notpeople. You’re my person.”

I blink at her, pleasant warmth spreading through me, loosening the knot in my chest. “Your person, huh?”

“Too much?” Her strawberry-blond ponytail tickles the side of her arm as she tilts her head.

“No,” I say hoarsely. “I would very much like to be your person.”

There it is: the truth of the thing simmering between us.

Chapter Twenty-one

Abigail

We decide topick up a few things from my house—namely, clean clothes—before heading back to Luke’s. I wanted to see Princess the Gray Floof again, but when Luke said we could swim and hang out by his pool, I was immediately game.

I sigh in contentment as he carries the tote bag I stuffed full of clothes and a bathing suit into his bathroom. He might be gruff on the outside, but the conversation between us flowed easily the whole drive, and I love the hints of his dry humor.

Making him laugh isn’t easy, but hell, I’ve always loved a challenge.

Laughter sounds good on him, too.

It doesn’t take me long to rinse the Pilates sweat off and tie on my favorite royal-blue bikini, and I search through my tote to find the gauzy cover-up I thought I brought with me.

“You done?” Luke says through the door, knocking lightly.

“Yeah, sorry, come on in. Didn’t mean to hold your bathroom hostage,” I say, still bent over and digging for my cover-up. Wearing one is something my mom drilled into me when I was a teenager, and even all these years later I can still hear her admonishing me to put one on. “How’s Princess? She okay?”

“Fuck me,” Luke says, and I jerk up, concerned at the statement.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s fine,” he grits out.

The intense expression on his face shuts me up immediately.

Lust roars through me at his heated gaze, and I stare up at him like a deer in headlights. Sexy, sexy headlights.

“That’s not why I was saying fuck me.” He clears his throat. “You are…stunning.”

“I mean,” I say awkwardly, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it. Just remember your safe word iscello.”

One corner of his mouth kicks up in recognition of the joke, and that’s all I need to step closer to him.

The chemistry between us has been undeniable nearly from the moment we met, a sort of molten heat that’s threatened to combust since the first fake kiss we shared turned real the moment our lips touched.

All it takes is a thought and a few steps until I’m standing in front of him, every cell in my body begging to be touched.

He lifts a hand, then hesitates before tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his gaze fixed on my face.